


Cast Our Fevers in Stone

by louise_lux



Category: Doctrine of Labyrinths - Monette
Genre: First Time, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/pseuds/louise_lux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the fourth book in the series. Contains a mild spoiler for Corambis in that it is set in Grimglass, and it is their second year there. Felix discovers a series of carvings in the sea caves, and a great storm hits the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cast Our Fevers in Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasmasson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/gifts).



**Mildmay**

**   
**

I first knew there was going to be trouble when Felix came just about running back from the sands one day, his hair a wild tangle and his eyes bugging out from his head like a frog with a problem.

"What is it?" I said, pulling myself out from under the massive gears that turned the huge lamp up top. My hands were all smeared with engine grease, and he shot them a mean look. "I can’t help but get 'em dirty!"

"Never mind. There's something I want to show you."

"Where?" I wiped my hands on my overalls, and he scowled again. He was one to talk. He had wet sand and bits of slimy seaweed all up the back of his new winter coat like he'd been sitting on the wet rocks again, staring out at the sea.

"On the beach. Where else? Come on."

He turned and strode out, twitchy as a cat. But he went slow enough for me to walk alongside. I could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't properly there, but not in the bad way where he was spooked but in the good way where he was just thinkin' hard about something. I'd learned to recognise that face in the indiction we’d been here. Powers, I was a whole lot happier with it than the alternative.

"Button your coat," Felix said, and I didn't need telling. The cold air made my lungs hurt. Last winter, our first one here, I'd got the Winter Fever so bad they'd taken me to the People's Infirmary down in Fledwit. Even Thermidor in Grimglass ain't hot. Now it was Frimaire, comin' onto the worst time for storms, and it was colder than a well-digger's ass in a blizzard.

The sea was grey, the sky was grey, all the rocks and stone were grey. The only thing that stood out as we made our way out over the flat rocks was his shock of red hair that danced in the wind like excited snakes, and my hair too I guess.

People up here were mostly pale with blue eyes. Mrs Pallister had told me that the lands had been invaded by the Norvenen people indictions ago, and they'd settled here figuring it was as good as any other lump of rock. Whatever, me and Felix were back to standing out again.

It wasn't no beach to speak of. There was black sand, and jutting through it was flat hard grey rocks that stuck out like a shelf into the sea. It all got exposed at low tide, and further out they stuck up in jagged heaps, with white foam dashing all around them. Beyond that, far out, was an island that the locals called Yonder Isle, maybe because they couldn't think up a better name. It was a weird place. From the top of the lighthouse it was a black half moon curve of sand sticking up from the water like the hump of a whale. Boats got stuck on it and then got swallowed up by the shifting sands, their hulls spat back up indictions later like bones. Mrs Pallister, who it turned out really got into a good spooky yarn, told me about the haunts of dead sailors who lived there.

There was another little lump of rock beyond that, sticking up like a broken tooth, that the old folks called the Calf of Yonder. The islands were why the lighthouse was here in the first place. It rose up into the sky like a spike, dark and gloomy up above us. It was way bigger than anyone would need, and no one could figure out why it’d been built so big. There was room enough for us to live inside, and plenty of space for a massive library, except all the outer walls were curved.

"Where are  we goin'?" I asked, risking another scowl. I got one, but his face softened into a smile when our eyes met, like he was suddenly seeing me properly. I couldn't help but smile back. It made my stupid heart swell up.

"I found something interesting," Felix said, tilting his face into the wind and the sea spray. His eyes were sparkling. "In one of the caves."

"Oh yeah? What's so interestin' about it that you got to drag me away from work?"

He looked doubtful. "I'm not sure. But it might be something that might help with the weather working."

"Do you remember the weather witches on the boat?"

"The boat?"

We looked at each other. I'd decided when we came to live in Whallen that I'd just say what was on my mind and let Felix deal with it.

"When we both nearly drowned our asses on the way to Troia."

"Oh." He looked at me thoughtfully. "No, I don't remember the weather witches. I've read Brightling's treatise on windflow. He posits that there are wind currents far above us, greater winds than we can even know, and their movements affect our storms."

"How does he figure that?" It seemed unlikely, but then this Brightling was probably a hocus so it made sense to him.

Murtagh hadn't been kidding when he said that Grimglass had problems, the main one of which was that it was half sinking under the sea every winter when the storms came. And they came a lot, shifting tons of silt and sand and rocks about all along the coast. Not that many indications ago Whallen, which is kind of the main town in Grimglass, used to be a port and now it was two miles inland.

We walked along the sand, not talking too much. It was only just past the septad-day, but it was dark like the sun was setting. Dunes piled up alongside the beach, all covered in dead dried grass that rattled in the wind.

It was weird to be alone with Felix in the day. As the Virtuer of Grimglass he was needed a lot. When he wasn't doing hocus stuff with Kay in the towns he was buried in the library, sometimes literally, lost in boxes of old papers and books. The library was a mess big enough to make a grown man cry, but Felix went in there and wouldn't come out all day until it was time for supper. He'd smell of dust and old paper, and sometimes he even turned up with spiders in his hair, which I'd have to pick out.

Last week he'd gone to get rid of a phantome in the shipyards at Mundbryce and he'd come back in a strange mood, sort of twitchy. He was still in it as far as I could tell. I didn't ask because I didn't fancy getting my head bitten off.

We walked on. Powers, I hated being on the sand. I couldn't hear anything over the sea and the wind, and it spooked me right out. I always ended up looking over my shoulder a lot and it made Felix laugh at me, but it wasn't in a mean way so I didn't mind.

"Do you think someone's going to creep up and murder us?" he said.

"No, don't be daft."

He laughed some more, and it was a nice sound. 

It was low tide, and right along the end of the bay was an outcrop of more grey rock, all riddled with huge holes from where the waves had hit it. Felix climbed into one of the caves, and I scrambled after. The rocks were slippy and I was glad I’d bought Jashuki.

"Can you manage?" he said, looking over his shoulder. His face was outlined stark against the black mouth of the cave, and it struck me that he looked so excited, like a kid. The air smelled of salt and water, wet sand and dead seaweed, nothing like the Sim at all.

"I'm fine," I said. "Go on."

"This cave is underwater at high tide," he told me in his teacher voice. "And most of the other times too."

He called his witchlights and they floated about us, throwing out flickering shadows as we splashed through shallow water. The cave narrowed, wet walls brushing at my shoulders, until when I thought we could go no further it opened out again into a sort of chamber. I shivered, remembering the labyrinth under Klepsydra.

"Look," said Felix.

"What at?" I said, looking about. It just looked like any old cave.

"Look closer," Felix said, pointing to a place at the foot of the wall where I could see he'd scraped the sand away. There was a big old heap and I wondered how long he'd been down here. I crouched down.

There were patterns on the walls, faint and small. Someone had carved little pictures in the rock.

"Well that's spooky as fuck," I said. "Who did it?"

"If I knew that I'd tell you," Felix said, bending down next to me. "Maybe the people who used to live here a long time ago."

We peered together, and he ran his fingers over the shapes, touching them like he could read them with his fingers, like the night reading system that Mr Udell at the Society was trying to develop. He looked miles away. The witchlights hovered over us, making his face into a mask floating in the darkness.

"This is Yonder Isle," I said, pointing to one of the shapes. "Look at the curve."

"Oh, yes, you're right! Do you think this is the tower?"

"Yeah, maybe. That one looks like a fucking huge wave."

There was a man with little dots around his head, standing below the tower.

"A wizard?" Felix asked me, as if he thought I'd really know. It warmed me against the cold.

"Could be." I watched him as he bent closer to the stone. He was silent for a while, as if he was listening, and his eyes got glazed. "Hey, Felix. Felix." I had to say it a few times before he even looked at me, and the out-there look on his face sent a chill running down my spine. "Are there . . . ghosts in here?" I said.

"No," he said, sort of glancing at me and then looking away. "I don't know. I thought I could hear voices." He pushed a hand through his hair and frowned. "But I think it's just the wind."

I just nodded at him.

"I'm going to copy the drawings. Will you wait for me?" he said. He never used to ask me nice things like that. He twisted his lips. "I don't want to forget where I am and get trapped by the tides."

"'Course I will."

I sat on a rock and after he'd drawn out all the little carvings in his little notebook we trudged back along the sand to the tower. My feet were cold as fuck, and I wondered what we looked like – Felix in his fancy blue coat flapping behind him in the wind like a flag and me limping alongside. I only hoped the weird stuff in the cave was going to be useful.

 

**Felix**

Where Melusine was old and dark and filthy, Whallen was old and scrubbed clean by the scouring wind and the light. I rather liked it, although I worried for Mildmay's lungs in the damp. He seemed happy enough though. He had developed an intense attraction for the machinery and gears of the lighthouse. He told me it all needed replacing; I was happy to take him at his word and let him get on with it. Kay even sent down the ship enginists from Mundbryce to give him advice. While Mildmay busied himself with that, I carried out my duties as sole Virtuer of Grimglass. It was a position of little cachet, and I admired Murtagh's cunning in moving two of his problems far away from anywhere they could cause trouble. Three if you counted Julian.

Life had fallen into a pleasant enough routine. Some days I even forgot to think about Melusine or Gideon.

"Am glad you came," Kay said, as we were drinking tea that morning, a regular occurrence over which we discussed the business of the day. I had told him of my discovery in the caves the day before. He had nodded, awkward and flushed. I sipped my tea and stared into the depths of my cup, wondering how to broach a difficult subject.

"Last week in Mundbryce—" I paused while he flinched. We had gone together to deal with the shipyard. "Look, it's not something you should be sorry for, Kay," I said.

"Should not have done what I did," Kay said. "Not when you have always been so kind."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a blushing virgin. You know that quite well." Which was possibly a little cruel, as he grew even redder.

He knew more about me than anyone apart from Mildmay. In Mundbryce, in my room at the local hotel, he had put his hand on mine and asked me a certain question in such a manner of old fashioned courtliness that I had nearly dropped my glass of wine. Perhaps he had finally got around to misinterpreting my friendliness for something more, and perhaps he was right to. There were often times when I regretted that the Dragon Duke was so far away. The young men of Grimglass were a poor lot, sadly, and I drew the line at Julian.

Perhaps he was desperate. I didn't want to think about that too closely.

"We can decide to forget about it," I said. "If you'd like?"

He looked up, eyes unseeing. "Please?" he said, and it was impossible to mistake the relief in his voice.

"My dear Kay. Perhaps it's a sign of age, but I would rather discuss weather systems and the pressing matter of the continued silting of the estuary."

He smiled grimly and nodded. "Is a storm coming," he said. "The sky watchers at Tenderden say it shall be a very bad one."

"Vanessa tells me that it was a great storm in the reign of Pontifex Writtle that almost destroyed all of Whallen."

"Vanessa likes to tell that story. An I have heard it once, I have heard it twenty times."

I had heard it retold better by Mildmay a few nights before. "But the threat is real, nonetheless."

"There is always a threat in this wretched place," said Kay, sighing. "Canst thou protect the town?"

Corambis had nothing in its magic that enabled protection against the seas. I had hoped the library would have something, but it seemed that some important facet of knowledge had been lost, or more likely washed away. The people who built the lighthouse were no more. Grimglass was slowly drowning.

"I don't know," I said, and I loathed to admit I was at such a loss. I studied the rings on my fingers. They were no help, frankly. I had learned a lot of the practical Corambin magic, but not enough for this sort of problem.

I found Mildmay later that evening up in the great glass room where the light shone out. It always shone, powered by a very clever working that Virtuer Hutchence had travelled from Esmer especially to help me install, after much consultation with Mildmay and I. I merely had to renew the spells each week. Hutch had devised a clever chamber that he said would store my magical power so that it could be released when needed. 

The huge glass sphere glowed in its brass gimbal, shuttered on the side facing the town. Its beam pierced the black sky and thrust out over the black water like a finger of white light.

I didn't like this room. The lamp reminded me of the Virtue, even though the magic was different, and I would be caught with a tightness around my throat when I came near it. All round me, the faceted window panes glittered as they caught the light, and the room was filled with the steady drone of the gears and engine far below, cranking the light slowly round and round. Below that, always there, was the dull rumble of waves smashing into the foundation rocks two hundred feet below us. This room belonged to Mildmay, just as the library belonged to me

Mildmay was sitting on a small stool he'd fetched up here, gazing out to sea. He looked round at me.

"The weather watchers say there's a huge fucking storm coming," he said. "Which is just peachy because I only got those new shutters fixed on last week."

The last set had been battered to matchsticks last Spring.

"Shutters are the least of our problems," I said, and he glared at me. "Oh, come on. It's time for supper."

We sat quietly after dinner, Mildmay staring into the fire and I half reading sections of Ynge that I had read many times. He sat with his book on his knee; it was Pevensey's 'History of The North Peoples'. He had untied his hair and it hung around his face.

"Come here," I said. "Your hair is like rats' tails."

He looked up. "Oh. Okay." He fetched his comb, and took a chair at the table. I stood behind him.

"I don't reckon Pevensey even set a toe in Grimglass," Mildmay muttered. "He says Fledwit has a pleasant main street."

"Then he can't have," I said. "That place is dire and stinks continually of herring. You have engine grease in your hair. And rather a lot of dirt."

"Oh, Powers, really? I should wash it." He made to move before I stilled him.

"In the morning. We can heat the copper while we have breakfast."

"All right." He relaxed back against me, and I ran my fingers along his crown, brushing away sand and grit, no doubt picked up from the floor of the engine room.

I began to comb out the knots and tangles, as gently as I could. Finally his hair began to come smooth across my palms, falling like heavy dark silk over my hands and around my wrists, and I heard him sigh. I lifted his hair as I combed to see the curve of his neck below, the line of his jaw lit by soft light. I was afforded a glimpse of collarbone and the smooth skin of his chest by his open shirt.

I flushed with shame at the liberties I was taking while he remained unaware. They were things I couldn't help but see, and I stole them away and hoarded them. He was beautiful, perhaps even more so now, as if the grime of Melusine were being washed from his skin. He moved with such grace that sometimes it hurt to look at him, and I wondered to myself if I would always feel this way.

I combed his hair until it shone, and then combed it some more until he was yawning and his head was drooping. Warmth gathered behind my breastbone as I listened to his soft slow breaths, my hands on his warm, soft hair.

"Let's go to bed," I said.

 

**Mildmay**

"An there is something delicate I would bid you read me, would you?" Kay said. "It won't be that pleasant for you."

The sun shone weakly through the window like it was on its last legs. He was sitting in his window seat, his sightless eyes turned into the pale light like a cat.

"Well, yeah. I guess so," I said. "If you trust me with it."

He passed me the letter that was folded in his lap, not even looking my way.

"Please," he said.

It was from the Duke of Murtagh, on thick paper the colour of fresh cream. "Maybe Mrs Pallister could . . . "

"No," Kay said, quick and sharp.

I began to read. The Duke's handwriting wasn't no great shakes, as if a spider got drunk and ran over the page, so I was going a bit slow. It seemed a plain enough letter until about ten lines down and then it took a turn for the intimate. My eyes just about bugged out of my head.

"Erm. Kay. It's sort of personal." Really fucking personal.

Kay made a face. "There's no one else could ask."

Fuck me sideways 'til I cry. I could see why he didn't want Mrs Pallister reading it. It was as good as a love letter, and even though I didn't think Kay and Mrs Pallister were fucking or even anything close, I'd bet that this'd go down like a dose of clap in a whorehouse. Powers and saints I didn't want to read this out loud. But I did.

"There are things it is easier to say at a distance, and I know you will think me a coward," I read, and then the Duke got a lot more detailed about just what them things were. It wasn't filthy but there was some stuff in there that couldn't be mistaken for anything but him wanting to fuck Kay, even with all them metaphors and shit he was usin'.

So I read it all through, quick as I could without seeming rude or spoiling what was in the letter. Powers, it was hard. Kay looked into the sun and didn't move a muscle. The Duke had a nice way with words, I'll give him that, even as I was blushing bright red.

When I'd done he held out his hand and I gave him back the letter.

"I should probably go," I said, along of how the atmosphere in the room was thick enough to choke a cow. I knew my face was red as a sunset and was just glad he couldn't see it.

"Yes. I thank thee, Mildmay," he said, distantly. "Am sorry."

I let out a breath, thinking how rough it was for him to have no privacy, and what a bitch the Duke was for knowing this would have to happen and writing it all out anyway. "Nah, it's okay."

I picked up Jashuki and left him sitting in the window seat, the letter folded on his lap.

Maybe that accounts for what happened later, I don't know.

You know, those times when Felix kissed me and got hard just from being against me— I ain't exactly forgot about them. I don't get off to 'em or anything like that. Just, they're still there. I wish I could forget about 'em. Look, that ain't me. I don't think about guys that way. I mean, I never did before. Kethe, Felix always manages to fuck things up in my head, just when I thought we were okay and life was getting along to be almost normal, as much as we can ever be called normal.

I dreamed about him that night, and we were fucking. Oh, the dream didn't start out like that. I was fucking Mehitabel, and she was hot and moving under me and loving it.

There's been a girl now and then down at the Maiden's Tumbril, but I haven't wanted anyone properly since we got here. It's not even that I miss Mehitabel or that I think about Genevra, 'cos I don't, or at least not so much it fucks me up.

Anyhow, I was fucking her and it was really good in that way Mehitabel always made it, and you know in dreams how you're close to coming for most of it and never do—it was like that, when I looked down and it wasn't her face. It was Felix staring up at me with his spooky eyes and moaning my name, his hair all thrown back from his face, skin flushed and smooth as silk, and even in my dream I was shocked but the dream me didn't seem to give a flying fuck because I leaned down to his mouth and I kissed him and carried on fucking him, hard. His prick was stiff against my belly and I couldn't fuck him deep enough or kiss him hard enough. I wanted him. Powers, I wanted him bad, so bad I wanted to scream and bite and lick and fuck until he was all mine.

I woke up in a sweat, shaking, still hard and a gnat's hair away from coming. My stomach was flipping and I was freaking out, bad. I didn't want to think of Felix in a sex way. I didn't. I didn't think of him like that.

I sat really still, my fists all curled up in the sheets, and thought about that. Maybe I did now. I closed my eyes and saw his face underneath me again, smoothed out and ecstatic. I thought about all the times this past septad-month we'd laid side by side in the same bed while he listened to me read until he fell asleep. He was as chaste as the nuns of Saint Demelza's with me. He ain't never made another pass at me, not since that awful time before we got to Bernatha.

My room was quiet apart from my own breathing, and I was glad as fuck that there was no obligation d'ame anymore that might let Felix know what'd been going on in my head while I slept. Powers, this was fucked up. I couldn't get my mind round how I'd felt in that dream—like I wanted it bad. Wanted him. I'd been fucking him, and I'd liked it. Kethe.

The wind was picking up outside. I lay back down and listened to it screaming round the tower like a phantome having a bad day. It sounded like voices if you listened hard enough. I didn't think I'd sleep but I did, and before I did I wondered if it was just the wind that Felix had heard in the cave.

 

**Felix**

Mildmay was quieter than usual the next morning.

"You look pale," I said. "Did you sleep all right?"

He almost flinched when I spoke, and his eyes were flat jade. "Yeah, just peachy," he said. He pushed his hair back from his face with an economical grace, and I could see the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Really," I said. "You're a terrible liar."

"Just leave it," he snarled.

"Fine by me, darling," I said, and we glared at each other. "I need you in the library today," I said. "Don't be late." I gathered up my coat and a pair of woollen fingerless mittens — Mildmay had bought them for me from the winter market in Cinque Port, and they were perfect for writing while in the chilly stone library of the tower.

No one knows who built the tower. Of course, there are tales. One of the older lords here, Adrien Essent, told me that records were lost during the Great Storm but that everyone knew that it was built by the Elders of Grimglass back in the day when Antoine Castillian was King.

Its height and looming bulk couldn't help but put me in mind of the Titan clocks. I had asked Adrien if there was any link to them, but he didn't know, and neither did anyone else. It didn't feel like there was; no mikkary dripped from the gears and cogs and workings. There were only those voices. I had told Mildmay that it was the wind. I'm not sure why I felt the need to lie to him. Perhaps I couldn't bear to worry him.

Life in Grimglass is very different to Melusine, or even Esmer. There is a sense that one is at the end of the world, forgotten about. One needs to shift for oneself. Kay has a lot of trouble with the local lords, who all feel they don't want him interfering with their lands. Here, they'd much rather settle a dispute with a duel to the death, with the reasoning that problems were quickly solved that way.

The library was freezing, as usual. I lit the brazier. From the tall thin windows, laced with lead strip, I could see the iron grey sea rolling with white breakers. On the horizon there was a bank of thick white cloud, dark grey underneath.  The weather watchers at Tenderden would be pleased with the accuracy of their predictions.

It had taken six months to clean and rebuild the library, and six months later I was still unpacking and cataloguing crates of mildewed books that had been stored in the outbuildings. I had bought my own from Esmer, of course. It was a far cry from the glamour of the court in Melusine, but I did not truly mind it.

Mildmay came in some time later.

"I did ask you not to be late," I said.

"You're not my boss," he growled, like a bear with a sore tooth. He gave a me a cold green stare but I thought I could detect some upset behind it. I began to think back to what I'd done or said to make him angry but I couldn't think of anything.

"Well, now you're here you might as well make yourself useful. There are . . ." I peered into my ledger . . . "seventeen letters that need to be on the postal diligence by nightfall."

A glance out of the window told me that nightfall might come sooner than expected. Mildmay grunted and settled down with his pen and a writing pad while I dictated to him. He had a fine hand, and his writing was smooth and regular.

"You don't really want that comma there," he muttered.

"Oh, all right."

"Or that colon. And that stuff about the horse cure should be a new paragraph."

"Very well! Have it as you think best." 

I was sure I saw him smirk down at his page. He had a particular keenness for punctuation, learned at the Philanthropic Society in Whallen. I should thank them – it made my letters readable.

"You had any ideas about them cave pictures?" Mildmay asked, when we stopped for lunch. It made a change from him glaring silently.

"I have no idea. I should ask Virtuer Essent tomorrow. There may be some mention of them in the library." I had thought of little else since I'd seen them. I caught Mildmay's glance, but he looked quickly away.

"Is anything the matter?" I said, finally.

"Like what?" he said, scowling.

"I don't know." I paused, then made myself ask. "Did I — say something wrong?"

His suspicious jade eyes cleared for a moment, growing warm. It was like the sun coming out, and his whole face lightened. "Powers! No. No you ain't done nothing wrong." He rubbed his eyes. "I slept like shit last night, that's all."

"Well, as long as you're sure..."

"Just leave it," he snapped, his face closing up again.

"My pleasure," I said. 

We completed further piles of administrative tasks after lunch, and Mildmay left me in order to attend to his machinery. The wind was an unending roar now, and it called to me. I could hear voices, and they scared me.

The wind bit deep as I left the library, wrapped in my coat. I walked out along the paved lane that led to the shore, and the wind gusted so fearfully that it seemed to be trying to push me back. On the beach the sea was deafening. Spray flew into my eyes, and sand whipped my skin as I trudged to the caves. The tide was coming in, I could see that clearly enough, and I didn't have much time. I had to see them again.

 

**Mildmay**

Sometimes I don't think Felix even notices the bad weather when he's got his face stuck in a book. The shutters were rattling constantly by the septad-day and the wind and the sea just never shut up, roaring and crashing about. I did the rounds of the engines. Doin' that calmed me down. I checked the oil, the bearings, making sure they weren't rusting or getting corroded by the salt, tightened any bolts that were too loose. Just knowing that the light was working right made me feel a hell of a lot better. Lives depended on me lookin' after it proper and, well, that makes a change, right?

I was tryin' to avoid thinking about Felix after that fucked up dream last night, but when someone's that big a part of your life you end up thinkin' about 'em anyway. I had never thought of him in a sex way, except it turned out now I did. While I was gettin' distracted by that I hit my thumb with my spanner and swore.

I heard a voice outside and went to look. It was Mrs Pallister, and she looked like she was chewin' a wasp. Fuck, I hope it wasn't anything to do with that letter.

"Mildmay," she said, all curt, eyeing me like I might be about to bite her.

"Mrs Pallister."

The wind was blowing her hair sideways across her face. "Where is Felix?"

That last place I'd seen him was the library, but when I took her along there it was empty. His chair was pushed back and the papers on his desk were in a messy pile. There was a thumb print in black ink on more than one letter, where he'd spilled some and got it about. I straightened them without being able to help myself.

"Um, he might be in our rooms?" I said. "Is it important? I can go and find him."

She shook her head, and started to look more worried than mad. "I know Felix has been trying to uncover more of the history of the tower. I don't know if it matters at all but Aphra Gurton—he's very old and almost completely unintelligible—tells me that this place used to be a burial ground."

"This place?"

"Yes, under the foundations of the tower to be precise."

Oh great. That was all we needed; a fuckload of miserable undead who wanted their wrongs righting.

"I'll tell him, Lady."

She nodded, then looked about nervously. "This place is so ancient, I can almost feel it."

"Yeah, feels like it's been here forever," I said. She was making me nervous now, hangin' around like she wanted something else. I saw her slide a glance at me, and I pretended not to notice.

"My husband is very grateful for your help in reading to him."

"I don't mind it," I said, hoping to fuck she wasn't gonna start up about yesterday's visit because that was someplace I really didn't want to go. Mrs Pallister was a nice lady under all the prickles and I didn't want to go pissing her off for no reason. I knew Kay was grateful; there was no point in her telling me that. I figured she was just talking around what she wanted to say.

"Um, I should get back to work," I said. Below us, the engines were growling. The wind was hammering on the shutters even worse than before. I wondered where the hell Felix was, anyhow. "You should get on home before the storm hits, Ma'am, if you don’t mind me sayin'."

She shot me a sharp look. It was like being skewered. My heart skipped a beat.

"Are Felix and Kay lovers?" she said, blunt as you please.

I couldn't've been more surprised if she'd up and pulled a mackerel out of her pocket and slapped me with it.

"Um, I don't know?" I said because I didn't. "It seems sort of unlikely?"

She sighed and waved her hand like she wanted to brush away her question. "Well, never mind. I'm sorry, forget I said anything." She smiled, and it made her look almost pretty. "I hate people who go about asking awkward questions."

"Yes, Mrs Pallister."

"Oh do call me Vanessa for goodness' sakes."

"Okay," I said.

When she'd gone I went up to our rooms. There was a staircase that wound all the way up the tower like a giant corkscrew, and it was a bitch to climb up and down. After the first couple of months here, Felix had got the enginists to design a little platform with a brass cage thing that I could stand on and be moved up and down, going right to the top if I wanted. He said he'd seen one in Esmer. It was great, but I hated it too because there was no getting' round I was a crip when I was using it.

He wasn't in our sitting room. I knocked on his bedroom door and got no answer so I peeked inside. He wasn't there either. I sat down on my chair near the fire and thought. Where would he go without telling me? Why would he go anywhere with a storm coming on? I thought about the caves, and the look on his face when he was in there, and I got a sick feeling in my gut.

I hauled my ass back down to the ground, got my coat and Jashuki, and went out. Powers, it sucked hard to be on the beach. Water was places it shouldn't be, like in the air, and it felt like fucking miles along the sand to the caves. I cursed my leg and moved as fast as I could as the sun began to set, following the set of footprints that were still just visible where the tide hadn't licked 'em away. I decided they were Felix's footprints-- because who else's were they gonna be?

I swore, when I got there. The entrance was half full of freezing sea water, swirling about in powerful currents. I knew he was in there. I just knew it in my gut. I waded in and nearly screamed from the cold. Powers. What did he have to go and get stuck in a cave for?

"Felix," I yelled, staggering to stay upright against the pull and push of the water, but I was mostly drowned out by the roar of the sea and wind. I waded further in and almost howled as a fuckload of icy seawater splashed itself into my face. The water churned around me, black as the Sim. It was going to be properly dark soon. Fear made my chest get tight as I struggled along the narrow passage. It felt like the cave was squeezing me tight, trapping me and never wanting to let go. I dropped Jashuki  in the water, feeling it slip from my fingertips and sink, and I almost cried. I'd never be able to duck under and find it again.

"Kethe! Felix!"

"I'm here," I heard him say, before I saw him.

The chamber was dark and filled with sea water up to my neck. I could see Felix at the far end, standing pressed against the wall with his eyes as big as bell wheels and his face sheet white.

"Kethe," I muttered under my breath. "Felix, move towards me."

"I can't," I heard him say.

"You can."

"They don't want me to."

Oh powers and saints. I looked at him properly while my guts clenched up, and I thought about that hill at Nera.

"Felix," I said, keeping calm as I could. "If you don't move you're gonna get drowned."

"That's what happened to them," he said, staring at me.

"Who?" I moved closer, working my way along the slippery wall, clinging where I could. The rocks underneath me were slick and I was half terrified I was going to slip and go under the water. It was at my chin, and this was not good, puttin' it mildly. I finally reached him and put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched, gasping.

"They were left here to drown," Felix said. "As sacrifices. Can you imagine that?" he whispered. "They were trapped in here."

"Felix. Felix! We need to go." We'd end up as sacrifices too if we didn't get the fuck out of there.

His eyes skewed round to me, and I could see then that this wasn't like that time at Nera. He was _here_, but he was scared out of his wits. The idea that dead people were talking to him, keeping him here to drown, made my flesh creep even worse than the icy water.

"I'm here," I said. "Felix. Take my hand."

He stared at me for what seemed like minutes on end and I fought the urge to scream at him. Finally he slipped his hand into mine. His grip was crushingly tight.

"Can we go now?" he said.

"Yeah," I said, relief making me almost shake. "We're gonna go now."

The worst part was the narrow passage. The water was storming in as we struggled through it. I don't even hardly know what happened next because a wave hit me upside the head and the last thing I remembered for Kethe knows how long was my head thumping hard against rock.

The world seemed to turn sort of upside down and there was a lot of noise, someone calling my name, and the pain of water in my lungs and rock scraping all over my back. Someone was yanking on my hair and I wanted to tell them to stop because it hurt. The next thing I properly knew was Felix bent over me, and I was lying on my back in cold sand with tall grass rattling all around me.

"Please, Mildmay," he was saying, scraping the wet hair back from my face. "Please. Don’t die."

"I ain't dead yet," I managed, coughing. His expression changed from fear to joy, his spooky eyes fixed right on me and nothing else, and fuck if heat didn't start collecting itself down in my belly at having him so close to me.

Above us, far along the beach, the dazzling finger of light spun out into the night. I could see it behind the wet tangle of Felix's hair.

"We gotta get back."

"Yes," he said, anxious again. "Can you stand?"

"I'm fine," I said, and staggered to my feet. Just about everything hurt, everywhere.

It was a good thing Felix was there to catch me, because I swayed about like I'd had a pint of brandy, and I sort of fell into his arms. He clutched at me to keep me upright, and I couldn't do nothing but lean on him and let him take my weight.

"Shit," I mumbled. "This is fucked up. Again."

"We can go slowly," he said. "It's all right."

He sounded so calm now. His arm came round my shoulders and we stood together, pressed up close, him feeling all warm and good to lean on, and my cheeks began to burn because — fuck me sideways 'til I cry — I was getting' hard from being this close to him and I knew, just knew he had to be able to feel it. My face scalded, and then he was looking at me and I knew he could see what was going on inside me like he always can when he bothers to look. Powers! I wondered if this was how he'd felt under Klepsydra.

"Mildmay," he said, in a soft choked voice. I felt his touch change, and all credit to him it was to set me apart from him a little bit.

"Just — can we not get into this now?" I said. "Please?"

"Of course," he said.

We struggled along the dunes, him half propping me up and me still staggering like I was half cut. Neither of us spoke. The wind was too loud, and anyhow what were we gonna say?

We got back and slammed and bolted the door against the storm and Kethe, I've never been so glad to get inside. Both of us were soaked and shivering and shaking.

"You need a hot bath," he said, although his teeth were clacking like gob-stones. "Dry clothes."

"Y-yeah," I managed.

The copper was full, and we washed silently in the bathroom, taking turns in the hot water. It was bliss to be warm and out of that fucking sea. I couldn't look at Felix, and he kept his head down, not looking at me. After, in the sitting room in front of the fire, and in dry clothes, he sat me down with a bottle of ointment and a clean cloth and looked at the cut on my head. His hands were so gentle parting my hair that I wanted to scream or shake or something. I don't know what.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said, dabbing the ointment on it. It stung and I winced.

"That's one good thing about this fucking day," I said.

He half smiled. "Mildmay, it doesn't matter," he said.

"What?" I didn't want to talk about it, specially not with him, and specially not if he was going to choose to be a dick about it.

He paused, and looked me right in the eyes. "The body can have some strange reactions sometimes," he said, with a shrug.

He wasn't going to be a dick about it. I sagged with relief.

"It wasn't all that strange," I said, and watched his teeth sink into his lower lip. I put my hand up to where his was still hovering over the cut on my head. His fingers were still cold and they twitched under mine. "But I still don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

He swallowed. I saw the movement of his throat. "Whatever you want," he muttered.

"Mrs Pallister said that this place used to be a burial place."

"Oh? When did she reveal that useful nugget of information?"

"Apparently there's this ancient virtuer called Ahpra Gurton who says so. She kind of thought you might want to know."

Felix nodded. "It makes sense."

"And, um, she asked me something else." I felt sort of bad ratting on her but it was way better for Felix to have a bit of warning.

"Do tell," he said, raising an eyebrow.

 

"About you an' Kay."

"I'm sorry?"

"She asked if you were fucking."

Felix blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, so I told her I didn't know."

"Well, we're not," Felix said, and he sounded really weird.

"Okay." Outside, the storm howled, and I couldn’t help but think of any boats that might be out there, and that made me think about the crew of the Morskaia. "I should go down and check the mechanisms," I said.

"Yes," Felix said. "I suppose you should do that."

"Are you still hearing 'em?" I asked. He looked spooked still, and no wonder. Kethe only knew what'd gone on here all those indictions ago.

"A bit," he said, in a horrible small voice. "It's not as bad," he said, sort of unconvinced. 

"What can we do about it?"

He looked surprised I'd even asked. He pushed his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I want to examine some of the texts in the library again."

"Can you, like, exorcise them? Like with when we did the tombs in the Mirador?"

"Perhaps, if I knew what was keeping them here."

I left him sitting in his chair, his copy of Ynge in his lap, staring into the fire like it was going to open its mouth and tell him the answers. I went up to the lamp and looked out of the windows at the dark. Then I went down to the mechanism. Everything was fine. There was nothing to do but wait out the storm, so I went to bed.

I had another dream. In this one we were drowning in the sea. Yeah, just great. No surprises there. But we were kissing, and kissing more, hands on each other and stuff, and we didn't care at all that we were sinking, and he was wrapped all around me, the only bit of warmth in all that black water.  I woke up in a sweat and cursed myself hard for being a fool.

 

**Felix **

In the morning I rose early. A grey dawn had broken over the sea, and I squinted at it as I drank my coffee. The storm was at its peak. I had slept terribly, unsurprisingly, and although I tried to steer my thoughts away from Mildmay and what had happened on the beach, I failed.

I could hear them still, but now it was a low susurration as if they were appeased somehow by nearly managing to drown me just as they had been drowned. I wondered if Aphra Gurton would talk to me, and what he knew.

The stone floor of the library rang with the echo of my footsteps. Leaving the tower was a pointless exercise for as long as the storm lasted; we knew this from our first winter here. We were as good as marooned, just like the boats on Yonder Isle. It felt as though Whallen, barely a mile along the coast road, was half of Corambis away. I thought of my life at court, an age ago it seemed, and in that moment I missed its luxuries with a physical ache.

So I set to work.  I cross referenced everything I knew about the tower with what I knew about its previous history, which was not very much and got me no further than I had been last night. The thaumaturgical traces of the previous temple, such as they were, had dissipated almost completely over the centuries. Mildmay came and went, attending to the lamp, rarely speaking, and I did not want to engage him in conversation. His presence was like a physical touch, and if I had thought once of the feel of his hardness against me last night, I had thought of it a hundred time and had pictured the way his jade eyes had widened as he'd gazed at me. There had been hunger there, and confusion, and desire. I'm hardly ever mistaken about that. It's what comes of growing up as a whore. 

But I had set my own desires to one side months ago. He was beautiful, but what was the point in desiring him?

Towards the late afternoon the storm worsened, where I thought it could not. The voices had risen up, louder and louder, growing it seemed with the power of the storm itself. At my vast wooden desk, scattered and piled with books, I buried my face in my arms and pleaded with them to shut up. Why wouldn't they leave me alone?

Fear began to gnaw at my belly. I needed this to stop before I lost my mind. Again. It was hard to lift my head when Mildmay came hurrying into the library, his face grim.

"There's a ship on Yonder Isle. I think it's wrecked."

It was difficult to talk over the voices. They were calling, calling . . . but not for me, this time. "A ship . . ."

He looked at me and paused, his face creased with concern. "Felix, you okay?"

I shook my head and stood, clinging to the edge of my desk. "Let me see it."

We rode to the top of the tower in the little brass cage, Mildmay pressed close to my side in the tiny space. He looked at me, then slid his glance away. I felt heat flushing my face. At the top, we looked out of the viewing window side by side. I put my hand on the icy glass. I was shaking all over like I had the Winter Fever.

"There, see," he said, pointing east. I followed his line of sight until I saw it – a jutting prow glinting in the light of the beam, listing hard. Small yellow lights twinkled and then disappeared.

The voices in my head rose again, to such a shriek that my knees shook and my legs trembled and I crumpled against the window. I heard Mildmay talking to me, calling my name, shaking my shoulders.

"Felix, Felix," he said. "What's wrong? You have to listen to me."

As he said it, the voices in my head stopped, just as if someone had cut them dead.

"The boat . . . What happened to it?" I croaked.

Mildmay crouched next to me and gave me a long look. "It just sank."

 

**Mildmay**

I don't suppose no one'll ever know what happened to them poor fuckers in that boat. Felix reckoned that the cave haunts were appeased by their deaths, maybe, which accounts for their getting out of his head.

"D'you think it's got something to do with the storm, all this happening now?" I asked, as we got ready for bed.

"Maybe," he said, sounding tired. "It certainly seems that way. Perhaps the storm gives power to thaumatergic echoes. It's something the Mulkists talk about often."

He was sitting in his nightgown on the edge of the sofa, with bare feet poking out, and I was worried they'd get cold because the people who built this place seemed to think bare stone floors were just peachy.

The copy of Pevensey was sitting on the little wooden table next to my chair. I looked at it. A few nights back I'd lain down on his bed next to him and read to him till he was asleep. I knew he liked to drop off that way, although he never actually said as much out loud.

I could think myself in circles about Felix, so I took myself off to bed where I could go crazy in peace. But when I was in bed, thinking about those poor fucks on the boat, then thinking about Felix and what it might be like with him, and not sleeping, and then still not sleeping even when the clock showed it was three hours past the septad-night, I knew what it was I wanted. There was no point in lying to myself, because what's the fucking point. If something gets your cock hard then that's about it; there ain't no getting' away from it.

"Powers and saints," I said, to the ceiling. "I must be losing my fucking mind."

There's a point at the start of a job when you kind of know if it's going to go right or not, some gut deep instinct that it doesn't pay to ignore, like the time I should never have gone to Vey Coruscant's house because I could just tell it was going to go tits up. I was having the same sort of feelings now as I got out of bed, except kind of like the opposite. Like always with Felix, he turned my head upside down.

 

**Felix**

I was woken by Mildmay stroking my hair from my face. I opened my eyes wide, waking instantly, and instantly my heart was in my throat. I gripped his wrist tight.

"Mildmay. What are you doing?"

I could only see the faint glint of his eyes in the dim light, and the high curve of his cheekbone. I could feel he had one knee on the bed. He was half leaning over me, and for a second, before I knew it was him, I had been back in Pharaohlight. I let go of his wrist.

"Shit," he said. "Sorry, I never meant to scare you. I didn't think." His voice was unbearably soft.

I swallowed around my dry mouth. "Is something the matter with the lamp?" It was all I could think of to ask.

"No," he said. I could hear his breathing; it was too fast.

"What do you want, Mildmay?" Something told me to be gentle.

"I—I dunno."

I'd never heard such confusion in his voice. I propped myself on one elbow and folded the covers back for him, and he just looked at me, and I looked at him, and I wished it was light enough that I could see his expression properly. He slid in beside me and lay close.

"You're freezing," I said.

"Sorry."

"It's all right. Can't you sleep?"

"Nah."

The night blanketed us as we lay side by side.

"D'you — d'you still think about me . . . like that?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Do you still wanna fuck me?"

"I think you know the answer to that," I said, then, when he didn't answer and I realised that actually he might not know at all, I said: "Um, yes."

"You can then."

I turned on my side and looked at his profile. "Mildmay . . . "

He drew in a harsh breath, and when he replied he sounded almost angry. "Oh, powers. I want to, okay? With you." It came out slurred and rushed. "I've been thinkin' about it."

"I don't think you want to," I said.

He turned to me, so we were facing each other across the pillow. "What the fuck do you know?"

"You're not molly," I said.

His hair was loose around his face. He always took his plait out when we were alone at the end of the day. A strand of it brushed my cheek. His breath touched my skin.

"I had this dream, about you, and we were fucking, and — Kethe. I liked it, okay?

"...Oh."

"I can't stop thinking about it." It was difficult for him to say, that much was obvious. "But if you're going to be a prick about it, I'll go," and he made to get out of bed.

"No!" I clutched at his arm, then let go like I was scalded. He was warm now; warm and strong and lithe, and I wanted him. It filled up my chest, warmth and need gathering inside me. I'm not a good person. He'd said he wanted it. I wasn't taking advantage. I paused, wondering if he was taking advantage of _me_.

I thought about how much he must trust me to tell me this, and it made my breath come short.

"Are you sure?" I said. 

"No," he replied, "But that ain't never stopped me." 

"Come here," I said, gently, and slid my arm around his shoulders. I kissed him, just softly. I honestly think I was more nervous than him.

"Oh," he said, and then when I did it again he gave a soft moan, and he parted his lips. The tip of his tongue pushed against mine, and he sighed.

The sound and feel of him responding was like fire in my veins. I could feel his scar against my lips, a roughness where everything else was smooth. I cupped his jaw in my hand and spanned my fingers across the line of his jaw and his neck, tracing the lines of his bones. He shifted closer until he was against my chest. His sex pressed against my thigh, very hard and very hot already through the thin material of our nightshirts.  He wants me, I told myself. He wants me.

"Mildmay," I said, overcome. I clutched at his shirt, just shaking.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Felix. It's okay." He kissed me, easing over me until he was half lying on top of me. I held the litheness of him in my arms, all his grace and beauty. I stroked my palms down his back, feeling the smooth shift of muscle. He pushed my hair back, gaze travelling from my eyes to my mouth and back again. Everything he did was gentle, every caress and soft kiss, as if he were afraid of hurting me.

The night wrapped itself around us, just as I wrapped myself around him. My heart was racing. I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt, guiding my hands up over the backs of his thighs and up over the firm curve of his buttocks. His eyelids fluttered closed in an expression I'd never seen on his face before, but that I need to see again. I wanted him so much. I arched up to kiss him, and he responded, harder this time, pushing me back down into the pillows with considerable strength. I moaned, loudly and wantonly, unable to stay quiet.

He stroked my hair from my face, as if calming me, and gazed down. "Kethe," he muttered. 

"Can I light the lamp?" I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I want to see you," I said.

"Um, why?"

He had no idea how good he looked. I sent my witchlights up around us, and tugged at his shirt. He sat back and pulled it off over his head with his habitual grace, scattering the soft green light. I lay breathlessly, simply trying to absorb what I was seeing. His hair was loose on his shoulders. I took in his naked chest and naked stomach, his narrow hips, and then his arousal,w which was obvious and hard.

"You too," he mumbled, blushing. He pulled at my nightshirt in turn, helping me wriggle out of it, then he moved back to look at me. I lay naked underneath his scrutiny feeling bizarrely shy.

"Powers," he whispered. He laid his palms on my bared chest, then traced his fingers to my shoulders, brushing his fingers over my nipples on the way, then winding down my tattoos, tracing them all the way down to my palms and the eyes drawn there. Then all thoughts went from my mind as he leaned down and kissed my chest, and then my stomach, and over my hipbones. His hair tumbled forwards over my stomach, hiding all but a sliver of his face. I could see the straight line of his nose, the wings of his eyebrows and the dark curve of lashes on his cheek. His mouth was a sensual curve. 

"Mildmay," I gasped. I clutched at his shoulders like I was a virgin. How many times had I dreamed about this? I'd certainly imagined myself being more collected, not clinging to him like a girl. He came back up, walking on hands and knees until we were face to face.

"What'd you like?" he said, and looked up at me through his lashes shyly. It took my breath away that he was even asking me such a question. I could hardly think at all, and I wanted to say: "You," but that wouldn't be useful, and one of us should try to keep his head. I wondered what experience he'd had in such things, but couldn't make myself ask.

"You know I'm a martyr," I replied, and he nodded, his face flushing.

"I ain't never done any stuff like that," he said, looking at me shyly.

"No, I know. I—I meant I'd like you inside me," I managed.

"Oh," he said, and moved over me on hands and knees, graceful as a cat. "Oh," and he leaned down to kiss me. His lips were soft and warm. He slid his tongue against mine briefly, a clever slow touch, and I shivered. "Yeah," he said, pulling back to watch me. "Okay. Felix."

I moaned when he said my name, and I clutched at his shoulders.

A pinscratch frown appeared between his brows. "You like hearing me say that?"

I nodded, speechless. His eyes lightened and softened, and although he didn't smile I knew he was amused.

"Felix," he said, against my mouth.

I cupped the back of his head and pulled his mouth to mine, slipped my arm around his waist and pulled him close to me, and he didn't resist even a little. I wanted every inch of him, and wanted to know every sound he made and feel every small movement, like the slight, needy thrust of his hips against mine. He was hard, and he wanted me. He stole my breath and any remaining sense that I had.

I had the necessary oil, bought along from Esmer with foolish optimism. I had never had cause to open it. I found it in my toiletries and gave it to Mildmay, who looked at me with some concern.

"Here," I said, and I showed him what he should do, with oil on my own fingers. I stroked his hardness with my oil-slicked palm.

He caught my wrist after a few moments. "Don't," he said, roughly, and he lowered his lashes. The high flush across his cheekbones made him look prettier than ever. He glowed in the soft light.  "Fuck. I mean, I like it. But it'll make me come."

"All right," I managed.

He bit his lip and looked down at me. "I want to make it good," he mumbled. "Y'know. For you."

He entered me carefully, which I was grateful for as it had been so long, and he moved in me gently, each thrust an economical, precise movement. I lay on my back, my knee raised and pulled back, his hand planted close to my head, a lock of his hair hanging down to kiss my jaw. He moved steadily, his eyes on nothing but my face. He stroked my sex with his free hand, after he'd smoothed his palm with oil.

He lowered himself on one arm so that we could press our mouths together as he moved. He was poised, his strength obvious in the strong line of his shoulders and the wiry flex of the muscles in his arm.

I could touch him there. I could touch him where I pleased.

"Mildmay," I gasped, and reached up to cup his jaw. I ran my thumb over the bump of his scar and he shook his head and groaned, and his thrusts grew less steady, then harder, and deeper. I spent myself on my belly watching him move, and then he made a soft cry and thrust hard once more, and stilled, arched over me, pressed deep into my body.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Felix."

He withdrew as carefully as he had entered me, watching me for any sign of discomfort. I tried to hide my small wince.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded. I caught his hand, raised it to my mouth, and kissed his palm. Then he lay down next to me, stretching out at my side with his head on the pillow, watching me steadily with a soft green gaze.

I fell asleep with him at my side, his arm crossing my ribs, and his hand on my waist, his legs tangled with mine.

 

**Mildmay**

After we fucked, I stayed in his room and we slept all tangled up right until it was mid morning, and when I cracked an eye open his room was filled with that pale winter sunlight that looks as weak as milk. But, fuck, was I glad to see it, along of how it'd been mostly dark for what seemed like a decad.

Felix was reading in bed next to me, all warm and sleek-looking. His hair was everywhere and he had dark rings under his eyes, but he smiled at me so soft when he saw I was awake. I lay for a little moment, just loving that smile and feeling as easy inside as I could remember for a long time. I figured he didn't regret what we did.

He let me get up after a little bit. I washed and dressed and headed on down to the machinery room. Through the tall windows on the way down, the sea was as flat as a table, and smooth, and more blue than grey. Over on Yonder Isle, there was no sign of the boat, and thinkin' back it seemed more like a fever dream than something that actually happened. My head was sort of messed up though, maybe.

I got my overalls on, and got my oil can and cloth and did my checks on the gears. Okay, I felt pretty weird about fucking Felix. Not because he was my brother or anything like that, but just because he was Felix. A lot had changed this past indiction since we'd been in Grimglass.

After I cleaned down the gears, I went up to the top, sat on my bench, and spent a lot of time looking out to sea, wondering about that boat, and if Felix was really okay after them ghosts got in his head, and what we were gonna do about them if they piped up again, which they probably would. The lamp came on at dusk, and not long after that I heard the rattle and whirr of the little cage, and then Felix's footsteps behind me. I turned to look at him as he came up beside me. Then I noticed what he was holding.

"Hey, that's Jashuki."

He smiled and handed it me. "I found it on the beach at low tide. It had been washed up not very far from the tower itself."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it. "That was kind."

He looked at me for a bit too long, and then blushed and seemed kind of flustered. I kind of knew how he felt. I didn't quite know where to put myself now he was in the room. But I figured we'd sort that out as we went along.

He cleared his throat. "I’m going to take a boat out to the island tomorrow," he said. "Would you like to come with me?"

Like I was ever going to say no. "Yeah, of course," I said.

He sat down on the bench next to me and we looked out together at the sea and the water, side by side.


End file.
